


Under Our Christmas Tree

by IAmWhelmed



Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmWhelmed/pseuds/IAmWhelmed
Summary: Damian and Jon share a moment together just as midnight strikes on Christmas Eve.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75





	Under Our Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nxghtwxng](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nxghtwxng/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, my friend! ❤️ Your Santa bowed out, so I had the pleasure of writing your gift. I know it's short, but I hope it's enough! I love you! 🍾🎀🎁🎄

Just like this, with the fireplace of their small family farm burning, and the tree alight with small bulbs that twinkled and warmed the cozy family room, Christmas had arrived.

Damian allowed himself a smile, because “tis the season”, and leaned back. Jon welcomed him with a slight adjustment, reaching an arm around to pull him and the soft plaid of the blanket they shared closer. He felt Jon smile into the back of his head, where he no sooner pressed a kiss as Damian turned to pull him into a real one. Their noses brushed, and Jon’s lips were taut with silent glee, not easy to kiss, but satisfying all the same. Jon nuzzled against his face with a small headbutt, hand over his shoulder, hovering over his chest, gripping him by the fabric of his turtleneck to squeeze him. “If you told me ten years ago that I’d be spending Christmas Eve making out with  _ Robin _ of all people, I think I’d have laughed myself into an early grave.”

“Mm, would that have been before or after you turned five shades of scarlet?”

Jon took his lips in another kiss, a real one. Slow, languid, with lips that traced his own as if committing the pull of his bottom lip to memory. He tilted his head, and Jon followed, gripping now at his shoulder, squeezing him as he stole the warm air from his lungs and marked his heart with another thousand sparks. It wasn’t like him to let his guard down, but for Jon, he was well beyond that. Barriers came down after Kid Amazo; the armor came off the night they first kissed on a Metropolis skyscraper in mid July; and the last of his qualms disappeared the same as a snowball colliding with an old rooted tree the night he’d laid in bed with Jon and asked, like a fool, if he wanted to do this every night,  _ if he wanted to move in with him _ . Jon, of course, with that stupid little smile on his face and those big baby blue eyes and a soft voice filled with more love than even he could communicate, said: “And I thought I was gonna have to ask…”

He’d already had a house picked out, more like a daydream, less of a plan, but Damian had taken him up on it. The little residence off the corner of Honeymoon Avenue was now the Wayne-Kent Farm, and they’d made it a home by dressing it in strings of lights with soft rugs and stockings on the mantle. One for him, one for Jon, and a little extra one… not that they’d crossed that bridge yet. For the moment, it belonged to Titus and Alfred.

Jon pulled away, and he found himself shamefully following him as he did, eyes fluttering open to see warm, adoring baby blue staring back at him. Jon’s thumb traced the bone of his cheek, and he returned the gesture by setting a hand at the back of his neck, playing with the small curls at the nape. “You look like you have something you want to say, Farm Boy.” He grinned and cocked an eyebrow, twisting around in his lap to get a better look at that face that followed him everywhere. He’d never get away from it, and he’d never want to. He raised himself onto both his knees, and Jon’s hands trailed down to rest at his lower back.

Jon usually would snicker, would “pfft” and tell him he was just thinking about how dopey he looked, how it was gross in that tongue-in-cheek way. Instead Jon’s eyes softened, and his traitorous heart made a Nightwing-sized flip against his ribcage. “No, it’s just…” Jon’s eyes glanced at his lips, but then his warmed rosy cheeks, at his nose, then his eyes-- like he was taking it all in, their little nest at the side of the Christmas tree, with blankets and hot chocolate,  _ together _ . “I love you, D.”

“And I you, Habibi.”

Jon exhaled through his nose, lips curling at one end into a smile. “No, D, I…  _ I love you _ . You’re my best friend, you’re everything to me.”

His nose twitched, because… “Jon, why does this sound like a goodbye?” A mission? Was the league calling him away? For how long? Months? Years? Well, he wouldn’t have that. He wasn’t able to play that card when they were both still young, before Jon had ever trembled as he kissed him under city stars, but they were adults now. If they wanted to tear his other half from him for more than the acceptable (three days, but for appearance’s sake he’d allow a week), then they’d just have to deal with an extra hand. Where Jon went, he went. That was how it always was, even when he couldn’t say it, and how it always would be. His chest bowed, everything in him rearing for a fight.

“It’s not!” His hands were at his shoulders, holding him in place before he could go, quote unquote,  _ feral _ . “It’s not. It’s… kind of the exact opposite.” He tugged at his arms, and Damian acquiesced, let his lover pull him into his arms so he was sitting squarely at his chest. Like some movie poster, like Moulin Rouge, and the thought made him snort.

“Okay then, what is this?”

“D, this is--” Jon huffed and glared up at him. Not an expression he was unused to seeing on his face. Reassuring, that was certain. Jon shook his head, let his hands trail down his arms, the way he’d done as they laid together, when Jon thought he was asleep. It made his heart thump uncomfortably again, but his Super always did that to him. In the heat of battle, when he was pinned and Superboy came charging like a bull with bright red eyes at his captor, when they celebrated their anniversary and Jon laughed at his ill-timed, ill-prepared joke. God, he was in love with him. There was no one man on the planet he adored more ardently, on so many levels. From the brotherhood of a friend, to kicking him in the stomach for being an idiot and ruining a covert mission, to making love to him with so many smitten words pouring past his lips. Jon was his everything, too.

Jon’s hands found his own, smoother than his, warmer, too. They squeezed, and Jon’s pleading eyes found his own.

“This is me, asking you to marry me.”

Damian thought he heard him wrong. “...Jon?”

He reached into the pocket of his pajama pants, baggy and perfect for hiding the small ring that sat shining in the palm of his hand. He took Damian’s finger, slid it gently on and took it to his lips, not to kiss, but to hold. “I want to kick butt with you for the rest of our lives. I want to wake up with you everyday, forever, in our bed upstairs or our fortress or a cave or, ya know, whatever life throws at us. If it’s with you, that’s okay. You have always taken care of me, and I trust you more than I trust anybody else on the face of this planet, or uh, off it.” He laughed. “I want to take care of you. I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of you. I want to be with you, and I know--  _ I know you want to be with me _ .” Big blue eyes, filled with more love than either of them could ever communicate, stared up at him. “Will you marry me?”

And he blinked, because-- well,  _ what a dumb question _ .

He took his hands from Jon’s, instead used them to cup his pale pink cheeks and smush them together. “What did you expect me to say?  _ No _ ?”

Jon grinned, wide and happy and so, so full of unadulterated joy, it made the thick chunk of his smushed face look all the funnier. Jon tackled him in the next moment, and the blankets went flying as they toppled to the floor together. If he did or did not yelp in surprise, nobody but the two of them would ever know. “ _ Jonathan! _ ”

“Mmm~ ♡ ?”

He laughed and nuzzled into the bend of his neck, nose brushing back and forth against the vein. He rolled his eyes and raised his hand to glance at the ring. It was silver and blue, baguette cut on a band just his size, and it sparkled in the light of the twinkling tree, perfect for him. Just like Jon. He couldn’t help the wide smile and the laughter that bubbled in his chest. Jon pressed kisses to his throat, and he sighed. “Oh, Jon?”

“Hmm~?”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Haha, Merry Christmas, D.”


End file.
